


Ice Ice Baby (Word To Your Mother)

by AkiRah



Series: Beyond Destiny: Short Side Pieces (Entirely Out Of Order) [6]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Chiss Politics, F/M, Hoth is terrible, Hrafnhar (OC) - Freeform, Secret Princess Trope, You must be a level four friend to unlock my tragic backstory, family reunions are terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: Hrafnhar accompanies Darth Cred-Stick (Katsulas) to Hoth with the intention of recruiting Qyzen Fess. Things get side-tracked when they accidentally unlock Hrafnhar's tragic back story.





	Ice Ice Baby (Word To Your Mother)

“I hate Hoth,” Hrafnhar complained as she followed Katsulas out of the hangar and towards the shuttle that would take them down to the surface. “Why do _I_ have to accompany your tiny sith ass down here anyway?”

“You and everybody else,” Kat shrugged, blowing off her complaints the way he always did. Hrafnhar was a lot of bluster and hot air backed up by a pair of blasters and a wicked streak, but over the years they’d known each other he’d developed a genuine fondness for it. 

It had been nice employing someone who didn’t feel the need to stand on ceremony. And the fact that he learned from Torian that she didn’t charge him the “Sith Gratuity” because he wasn’t “a total dick” had endeared her to him further.

“Torian, did she complain this much _last time_ you went to Hoth?” 

Torain chuckled. “More.” Hrafnhar shot him a dirty look for the betrayal, sticking her pink tongue out but unable to help the grin when he raised his eyebrows, smiling and unimpressed. “But then we picked up Blizz and she settled down.” 

“So if we find her a Jawa to adopt there’s the _chance_ that she’ll shut up?” 

“Fuck you both.” Hrafnhar snorted. “You--” she pointed at Kat “--with the back end of Senya’s saberstaff-thing and you--” she pointed at Torian “--vigorously, later.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Torian blushed reliably but kissed her temple and muttered something affirmative, earning a small chuckle as Hrafnhar caught his hand with hers.

“So why are we visiting IceHell The Icening _anyway_? You tired of getting blue balled at home so you need to go stand on one?” 

“I’m not--my sex life with Theron is _fine_ \--” Kat sputtered, trying to sound indignant while trying not to laugh. “We’re here to meet one of Aygo’s contacts.” 

“Right. _You’re_ here to meet one of Aygo’s contacts.” She nodded, rolling her whole head because she couldn’t roll her eyes. “Why am _I_ visiting IceHell?”

“Hrafnhar,” Kat gave an exasperated groan. “You _don’t even get cold_.” 

“That’s racist.” 

“It’s a _scientific fact_!” 

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.” Hrafnhar hummed loudly as she clamored into the shuttle and took the seat next to Torian, her leg pressed against his. “But seriously. What are we doing?” 

“Looking for a Trandoshan by the name of Qyzen Fess. He’s leading the Warstalkers--you remember the Warstalkers--”

“Ugh _fuck_ the Warstalkers.”

“--and Aygo thinks they could help the Alliance,” Kat continued, unabated. “Marli’s chasing a _different_ lead and, well, you know Hoth.” 

“Theron was touching my service record again.” Hrafnhar snorted, she folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head back to glare at the ceiling. “Next time it’s in your mouth you should bite it off.” 

“What? NO!” 

“ _Riduur_.” Torian’s hand settled on her thigh and she leaned into him. 

“You’re so cute when you’re panicked,” Hrafnhar laughed. Her cheek settled on Torian’s bicep, expression muting, brow furrowing. She shifted in her chair, uncomfortable. “But yeah, I know Hoth and I’ve worked with Trandoshans before. A _lot_ of them turn bounty hunter. Worthy targets earn them points for their Goddess or something.” She shrugged. “Whatever works.” 

#

The Warstalkers would only join up if they could prove Scorekeeper had granted her favor to the Alliance. This meant hunting “worthy” targets for Jagannath points. Torian was thrilled, Kat was annoyed and Hrafnhar . . . was distant. 

It happened that the best place to find worthy targets for the hunt was right smack near an Ascendancy Base. Hrafnhar got quieter. She laughed and teased when someone else started it, but her fiery eyes watched the snow, waiting. She kept a hand on her blaster and when pressed said something about wompa-fuckers or maybe it was fucking wompas but she probably couldn’t have repeated it if asked. Kat, bundled up for warmth, lead the way, explaining over the wind as they walked that he’d used some of his imperial contacts to score shelter while they hunted Qyzen’s beasts. 

Hrafnhar looked at the slab of grey duracrete and the Ascendency flags flapping in the wind. 

“Are you alright, Riduur?” Torian asked. “Is this your old base?” 

She shook her head. “Fuck if I know, Babe. Chiss bases all look the fucking same and Hoth’s just a ball of ice. No real landmarks on a ball this shitty.” She squeezed his hand in hers, nervous but determined not to let anyone notice. “Even if it is, I’ve been gone more than a fucking decade. No one’s gonna recognize me.” 

Her certainty of that lasted right up until they were stopped at the entrance while an ensign confirmed that they were _actually_ in the company of Darth Occlus. 

“Rinnac?” the sergeant who came to greet them stopped mid-step and all of Hrafnhar’s hope evaporated. “We’d heard you’d been killed.” 

Hrafnhar’s eyes narrowed and then widened with recognition. She slid into an easy smile and squeezed Torian’s hand more tightly in hers. “Thon? You got promoted. Nice.”

“Seven years ago,” Thon nodded. “I--I missed you.” 

“Eh, I was off having _fun_ , you know how they feel about that here.” She shrugged. 

Kat looked over his shoulder and gave her a confused look. _Rinnac?_ he mouthed. 

She nodded and took a deep breath. Explanations were due and she _hated_ explaining shit. Theron should have just told the brass. Theron _knew_. 

Theron was a jackass, respecting her privacy and all, and she hoped his cock fell off. 

“Still mad?” She asked. “I know you weren’t _thrilled_ about the whole fucking arrangement but I did _bail_.” 

“Well, at least you didn’t leave without a word.” 

“I left a _lot_ of words _._ ”

Thon shook his head. “But no, I wasn’t--I’m _not_ \--mad. We wouldn’t have been compatible as a family unit. I mean, it would have been nice to try but--” he cleared his throat. “Can we discuss that later? Or--”

“ _Never_ works for me. Who’s in charge anyway?” She wondered if she should leave the talking to Kat but her mouth was moving. Torian’s hand fell out of hers but it settled on the small of her back, supportive and close.

Thon cleared his throat. “Rinnac . . . er . . . the Aristocra is--” 

Hrafnhar’s humor fell away and her mouth went dry. “I thought she went back to Csaplar.”

“You know the Aristocra?” Kat gave her a confused look and the laugh that fell out of Hrafnhar’s mouth was broken and miserable. 

“Boy fuckin’ howdy do I. _KTAH!_ ” The cheunh swear hit the ice and shattered as she spat it out. “I need to . . . _shit_.” 

Kat looked at Thon. “What’s the bad blood between the Aristocra and Hrafn-- _Rinnac_?”

“Aristocra Theas didn’t stake Rinnac’s . . . resignation--”

“You mean when I told the Ascendency to shove a wompa up its collective ass?” Hrafnhar corrected, almost miserably. “It was in the letter. A whole wompa.” 

“Right. She took it poorly. I think she might try to have you shot.” Sergeant Thon gave a failed attempt at an apologetic smile. Hrafnhar _wished_ it was hyperbole but it wasn’t. She had been branded a traitor, a _defector_. “Might I suggest--” his eyes flitted over to Kat. “That the Dark Councilor offer you his protection.” 

“I don’t need his--” 

“She’s part of my entourage. As is Torian.” Kat said, one hand gracefully lifted and his tone stiff and rigid. 

Thon’s eyes moved to Torian and Hrafnhar and Hrafnhar leaned closer to Torian, time in defiance. His hand slid down and gave her ass a squeeze, equally defiant. 

“I’ll give you a moment, Rinnac.” Thon smiled sadly. “There are boxes by one of the heaters you can sit on. The Aristocra will want to prepare.”

“That makes fucking two of us.” 

Hrafnhar exhaled as Thon left. She lead the way to the space heater and settled on the top most box, trying to hard to look casual. “Congratu-fucking-lations gang, you’re about to meet the frigid cunt that squeezed me out.” The vulgarity lacked its usual vigor as she muttered it. 

“Your mother’s an Aristocra?” Kat blinked. 

“Yeah.” Hrafnhar rolled her shoulders. “Haven’t heard the name _Rinnac_ in a hot fucking minute, would have liked to not hear it again.” She looked up at Torian. “My _name_ , before you pout, is Hrafnhar Cadera, Scion of Clan Lok. I was just . . . born Mhir’inna’Csapla. I ditched the name and the job more than a fucking decade ago.”

“ _Riduur_ ,” Torian kissed her temple. “ _Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.”_

 _“_ You’re a _Csapla_ ,” Kat hissed the words between his teeth. “You’re the _daughter_ of the Csapla _aristocra_.” 

“Her _only_ daughter,” Hrafnhar clarified, trying to get all the confessions out of the way as fast as possible because she _hated_ them. “Unless she had a kid in the last decade but I sorta fuckin doubt it. Baby’d freeze trying to come out of that frigid cunt.” 

“Why didn’t you _say_ something?” He stares. “We could have caused an _incident_.”

Hrafnhar’s smile was cut in half before it could move to say something scathing and affectionate in return. 

“You _abandoned_ you post, your family, the ascendancy and the entire Chiss people.” The voice was colder than the wind outside. 

Hrafnhar’s shoulders dropped and she exhaled hopping off the boxes and turning around to face the woman glaring daggers at her. “Mother,” Hrafnhar forced herself not to salute. Her arm tensed, wanting to jump up. She forced her eyes not to focus on her mother’s chin. “May I introduce Darth Occlus,” her accent betrayed her growing icy and crisp around the edges. Hard as the winds that had battered her mother’s house in Csaplar. “Formerly of the Imperial Dark Council, here now representing the Eternal Alliance and my husband, Torian. Riduur, Your Lordship, Aristocra Mith’ea’Csapla of The Chiss Ascendancy.” 

“Aristocra Theas will suffice.” The Aristocra looked much like Hrafnhar would in another twenty years. Her hair was just starting to go grey, an unusual and auspicious sign for a Chiss. She held herself firmly, hands in front of her and her long white jacket draped over her shoulders. “It's our honor to assist you, Darth Occlus. If you’ll accompany me, let us discuss how we can help one another. Thon!” 

“Yes, Sir?” 

“Show the Councilor’s entourage their room.” 

“Sir!” 

“And Rinnac,” The Aristocra looked over her shoulder. “Your father passed away. I expect you to pay your respects.” 

Hrafnhar nodded. 

“I didn’t know Chiss went gray,” Torian said in her ear. 

“It’s a . . . sign.” Hrafnhar watched the retreating figure. “It means you’ve sired exceptional children.” She shook her head. “Stupid fucking superstition, you think she’d just fucking dye it.” 

#

She flopped onto the uncomfortable cot the minute the door closed behind them and sighed. “She’s such a fucking _bitch_.” 

Torian frowned, his expression more worried than upset. He knelt beside the cot and brushed his fingers over her skin against her hairline. “Are you alright, riduur?” 

“Fine,” she lied. 

He let her have her lie and she adored him for it. Torian shifted so he was sitting, back pressed to the cot, facing the door. 

Hrafnhar curled so she was a crescent behind and around his shoulders and nipped his ear fondly. “Sorry things are awkward, cyare.” 

“I’m not worried.” He turned his face to kiss her once. “Katsulas will handle the politics. You and I will handle the rest. I’m looking forward to taking a wompa.”

“They’re sneaky,” she nosed his temple. “I mean, they’re not as bad as the fucking Ice Cats, because they’re not as _fast_ , but it’ll be a good hunt.” 

“Can’t wait.” He tilted his head back. “Were you and that Sargent really engaged?”

She laughed and carded her fingers through his short blonde hair, letting his presence warm away her worries. “Yeah. Chiss are protective as _fuck_ about their useless piece of shit bloodlines. Thon’s the younger son of a branch of Nuruodo but his father’s got pull there and his brothers are either married or I refused. I think we’re . . . shit . . . cousins but I don’t know how distantly. It was a good match for Csapla and he didn’t make me want to shove my blaster up his ass and use him as a turret.” 

“Can’t imagine the Aristocra’s pleased that you became a Mandalorian.” He grinned at her, blue eyes bright and boyish. “Or married a Mandalorian.” 

“Just when I thought I couldn’t want your cock any more desperately, Torian,” Hrafnhar’s eyes glowed as she said it. “You remind me that it would piss off the Aristocra.” She leaned in and smiled against his mouth. “You know, cyare, I believe I threatened you earlier.” 

“Should I lock the door?” 

“Only if you take your armor off on the way over there so I have something nice to fucking look at while I’m freezing.” 

“You don’t get cold, Cyar’ika.” 

“Ssssh, Kat’ll hear you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Etienne_Bessette for the use of his Sith Inquisitor, Katsulas
> 
> Mando'a used
> 
> Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la -- No one cares who your parents were, only the parent you'll be


End file.
